


Overworked and Underpaid

by Sabishiita



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: College AU, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Donut - Freeform, Modern AU, Trans Dick Simmons, Trans Simmons, mentions of church, the boys finally get a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10090280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabishiita/pseuds/Sabishiita
Summary: Alternatively named "Grif and Simmons's excellent adventure."Simmons needs a break so Grif convinces him to go on a car ride. I mean, what’s more romantic than memories of making out drunk and eating Wendy’s in a parking lot?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever written, and it's all thanks to [slambam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slambam/pseuds/slambam) and [FreysGalli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FreysGalli/pseuds/FreysGalli), who were not only my inspiration, but also my beta readers. Big thanks to them both. Please go read their fics too I love them so much. (Also they draw pretty)

Most nights around ten, Grif would come home and flop on to bed after another shitty shift at one of his jobs. And usually Simmons would have grabbed him something to eat, leaving it in the refrigerator for him to heat up. But tonight he hadn’t, so instead Grif grudgingly grabbed a banana and shuffled off to the room they shared. He was shocked to see light flooding out into the hallway from beneath the door. Often around this time Simmons would be in his bed doing who knows what on his laptop, but usually he did this with all the lights off. It saves energy, he’d say. With a sigh, Grif turned the knob, surprised by what he saw on the other side of the door. 

Simmons was not in bed, but at his desk, and it didn’t seem like he had moved at all since that morning when Grif left. He was still hunched over a sea of textbooks and miscellaneous papers, his laptop shoved off to the corner of the table. Grif was pretty sure that Simmons had forgotten to feed himself today, and he had to fix that before anything else. 

“Simmons? Hey, Simmons?” Grif asked, walking over to stand behind him. 

“Hm…?” Simmons hardly glanced up from his work, which looked like another design for some high tech prosthetic arm, if Grif had to guess. 

“How long have you been working here?” he asked, massaging circles into tense shoulders. They had gotten used to this, causal touches and moments of softness. Even so it was still uncertain what exactly they were. They had made out at that party last week, but they were both drunk, so Grif wasn't sure if that counted. Everyone thought they were dating. Unfortunately, that didn't make it true. 

“I don’t know.” Simmons replied, interrupting that train of thought. “… A couple of hours?” he rubbed his eyes with his palms, turning to look at Grif. “Wait, did you get home early? What time is it?” 

“Dude, have you eaten today? It’s already nine-thirty.” 

“Uh…” 

That was enough of an answer for Grif. 

“Come on, I’m getting you out of here.” 

“But… I have to finish this prosthetic.” 

“You won’t be able to do that if you starve to death. Now let’s go get you a burger and some R&R.” 

“Grif,” Simmons sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair, “I don’t have time to go out tonight.” 

“I’ll drive fast.” 

Simmons cracked a smile. It was one that accentuated the bags currently resting under his eyes, but it was a smile nonetheless, and Grif could work with that. 

“And take you somewhere nice.” He added. 

“Okay… I could use a break. Thanks Grif.” Simmons stood up to stretch, multiple joints popping in the process. 

“I’m pretty sure your body isn’t supposed to do that. Now come on, grandpa,” Grif said, pulling his keys back out of his pocket. “Let’s get this show on the road.” 

“Oh fuck you.” he sneered, elbowing past Grif to the car. 

  
  
  


Grif's truck always creaked so intensely that Simmons was convinced it could snap in half, but it never does. It's reliable, despite it's looks, but that might have something to do with how well Grif maintains her. He had the car when him and Kai had nothing else. So Richard refuses to complain when Grif spends hours working on her or even when he calls her the puma (which is a stupid name). It’s a good car, and Simmons has plenty of memories of driving along the river with Dex and Kai. Simmons hoisted himself up into the truck, still deep in thought when Grif started it up. 

  


Simmons looked up at Grif, and while he looked tired he proudly wore a mischievous grin, which only furthered Simmons’ curiosity. He had no idea where they might be going. Grif didn’t ask him to change into better clothing, but he did say they were going somewhere “nice.” What could that possibly mean at nine-thirty on a Saturday night? A bar? Or some club? That didn’t exactly sound like Simmons’ idea of R&R. Still, Grif drove on with his smug grin, focusing on the road ahead and occasionally tapping his finger to the music. Simmons fidgeted with the seatbelt strap until his curiosity finally got the better of him. 

“So... Where are you taking me tonight?” He asked. 

“I’m not gonna tell you, dude. It’s a surprise.” 

“What? Come on, Grif!” 

“Oh no, it’s no fun if you know where we’re going.” 

“Can I at least get a hint?” 

“Mmm…. Alright, it’s not expensive.” 

“Wow, that narrows it down to just about everything we like to do.” 

“That’s the point.” Grif chimed. 

“You suck.” Simmons huffed, crossing his legs and pulling out his phone. 

  
  
  


Simmons felt the car slow to a halt, but he had once again buried his face in some biomechanical forum on his phone, searching for something. Ideas? Solutions? Who knew. Either way he was distracted. 

“Alright Simmons, we’re grabbing snacks, what do you want?” 

Simmons’ head shot up, searching around like he was a prairie dog or some other goofy looking animal. He found himself in of one of those combination gas station and fast food parking lots that you find on long road trips, which didn't help his confused look. 

“What is this? Why are we here?” 

“Well, I know you like your Wendy’s, dude, and we’ll need snacks where we’re going. What do you want?” 

“I mean, you still haven’t told me where we’re going, soooo surprise me.” 

“One bag of ‘I don’t know’ coming right up,” Grif said, hopping out of the car. 

“Wait,” Simmons interjected, a grin spreading across his face as Grif stopped to look at him. “Is Wendy’s the ‘somewhere nice’ or is it that the secret place you’re taking me to against my will?” 

“And here I thought you liked it when I treated you to fast food. Why don’t you take a nap, asshole? Maybe you’ll remember how to be grateful.” Grif shook his head with a chuckle, closing the door behind him, leaving Simmons to laugh at himself.” 

Now in the car alone, Simmons was torn between checking the forums again and napping like Grif had suggested. He wasn’t necessarily body tired, but his brain certainly was. In the end he resigned himself to searching for a radio station with half decent music. Maybe if he found something he could turn off his brain. Or at least try. 

Grif came back about four songs later, and he brought the warm aroma of food with him, reminding Simmons just how hungry he was. 

“Oh, fuck, dude that smells amazing. I’m starved.” 

“Gee, I wonder why?” Grif poked. 

“I’m sorry,” Simmons grinned sheepishly, “I just really need this to be good… The professor said he would present the top couple of projects at the BioMech Technologies Convention. That would be such a wonderful opportunity for me.” 

“I know, and you’re going to do great, but you are gonna kill yourself before you even get there at this rate. You need this break.” 

“You’re right, Grif. You’re right,” he admitted. “So what’d you grab?” 

“Aside from your usual?” Grif asked, handing Simmons the brown bag and letting him stuff his face with fries. 

“Yeah, besides this delicious mess.” 

“I got us popcorn, because we’ll need it where we’re going; nuts, because you’ve been driving me nuts lately,” he said, playfully tossing the bag at Simmons, who scrambled to catch it, “and Twizzlers because I know they’re your favorite.” 

“Aw, Grif, that’s just about the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me. You don’t even like Twizzlers that much, do you?” 

“They’re alright,” Grif admitted with a shrug. 

“Thanks.” Simmons paused, looking down at his fries. “I really appreciate everything that you’ve done for me tonight.” 

“Anything for you, Simmons.” There was stillness between them, the same comfortable silence that they often found themselves in. “I hope I’m still allowed to have the burger I ordered for myself, though.” 

Simmons laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah, here you go.” He said handing the bag back to Grif. 

  


Grif scrubbed off the last of the of the food from his hands with a napkin, gathering all of the trash into the original brown bag and tossing it into the back. 

“Ready to go?” 

“I’m all set, but, uh, you got a little something-” 

“Where?” 

“Hold on, I got it.” 

Grif froze when Simmons reached up to wipe the small bit sauce off of his face. He watched as Simmons’ eyes softened, focused exclusively on him. He became painfully aware of the closeness between them as Simmons’ eyes drifted up to meet his own. A freckled finger still lingering by his mouth. The last time they had been this close the atmosphere had been very different. 

Simmons blinked. 

“Oh! Sorry, Grif.” he chuckled nervously, “Just, uh, just can't keep my hands off you. I guess.” 

“That so?” He asked, taking Simmons’ hand in his own, “It’s cool, dude.” 

He guided Simmons’ hand back towards his lap, pausing there as if he had something to say. Instead he shifted to buckle his seatbelt. Simmons faced straight ahead and searching his dead brain for something, anything, to say. But all that it gave him was the chorus from one of the cheesy pop songs he had listened to. Stupid brain. Grif drove off, without much thought as far as Simmons could see, the shitty fluorescent lights reflected in the mirror fading away as he watched. 

Why did he do that anyways? He didn't normally touch Grif’s face like that. Normally he would have rolled his eyes and shove a napkin in his face. Why did he have to make things so incredibly awkward? 

After a couple of minutes of silence Simmons knew it was time to talk again. 

“So...Why did you choose to take me out tonight?” he asked apprehensively, “I know how tired you can get after your evening shifts. I mean, they’re hell.” 

Grif’s caring black eyes flitted to meet Simmons’ for a moment of sincerity. Simmons watched the way passing street lights illuminated deep, worried lines on Grif’s face. He thought about all the nights Grif came home late and all the time he took to help Kai and the roller rink she loved so much. Simmons thought about every hour Grif spent on someone else. And yet, he still always had time for Simmons, time to do things like this. He wasn't sure how that was possible. Then, just like that, Grif’s eyes were once again focusing on the road ahead of them as he spoke. 

“I took you out because you needed a break and because I like spending time with you. You’ve kind of grown on me, Richard. I can’t stand watching you work yourself to death like that. I know you have the whole world on your shoulders, and a bright future ahead of you, but you don’t have to bear that alone.” 

Simmons sat there silently, smiling to himself as he picked at the hem of his shirt. He knew his parents’ love was conditional. His father had rioted when he first cut his hair short, as if it was some sort of personal affront against him rather than Simmons' choice. Grif however never cared about that stuff. Originally he thought Grif didn't care about anything, but he quickly learned that wasn't true. Grif cared intensely. About everything. He just showed it differently. He showed it in the way he took care of Kai or his truck, and in the way he aggressively used Simmons' correct pronouns in public. 

“Thanks for… Everything Grif. I know you don’t have to do all this.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t.” 

“Don’t you ever want a break though?” 

“From spending time with you? Hell no.” Grif answered, flashing an incredulous look Simmons’ way. 

“Well not just from me, I mean from, like, I dunno… Everything?” He fiddled with his hands, half afraid to look away from them in case Grif was still eyeing him. 

“Real descriptive, Simmons.” 

“You’re unbearable.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, “Like, do you ever wish that you could do this more often, or go to parties all the time?” 

“Didn’t get enough partying last time?” 

“Are you kidding? After the hangover I had? Hopefully I’ll never do that again.” 

“I’d be surprised if you could remember much anyways, you were trashed.” 

Simmons couldn't deny that. Everyone had been wasted at that party, especially them. His mind flashed back to the deafening music and crowded rooms. You couldn’t escape the pounding of the bass, or the line of solo cups being pushed into your hand. The memory alone felt overstimulating. 

He remembered Church shouting at Grif early in the night. And Donut twisting innocent words into lewd comments. But more than any of that Simmons remembered hands and lips all over Grif. It had been his hands and lips, and maybe there was a little tongue involved. Or a lot. Simmons didn’t really want to think about it too much. But he had sat in Grif’s lap, and, god, he hoped that Grif had at least forgotten about that part. Then again, did Grif remember anything from that night? Because even after all of that (which he’s pretty confident actually happened) neither of them talked about it. The next morning they slept in and didn’t do much else besides drown themselves in water and coffee between episodes of Star Trek. 

They never talked about them. Simmons knew why of course, they were terrible at it. They could talk about normal things like the inevitable heat death of the universe. No problem there, shit like that was easy. But feelings? That took a little something else that they just didn't have in them most of the time. Still, Simmons wanted to try. He wanted to understand Grif. Or himself. Honestly at this point he would take whatever he could get. He just wanted to know. 

  


“That entire thing was awful. Didn’t you eat a whole box of snack cakes?” 

“Yeah, because Church thought I fucking couldn’t. Didn’t you make out with your super hot friend?” 

“Oh god.” Simmons squeaked, burying his face in his hands. Nevermind, he didn't want to talk about it. He couldn't handle the embarrassment. “You remember that?” 

“Uh, yeah. Definitely. You sat on my lap.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“You didn’t bring it up. I figured if you wanted to talk about it you’d say something.” 

“Oh my god.” Grif was right of course, they had both developed the same terrible habit where if they didn't want to talk about something they just ignored it. You can't worry about something if you pretend it didn't happen. But what if he wasn't actually ready to talk just yet? Simmons had brought it up but he wasn’t sure he could actually handle that right now. 

He just had to breathe. Grif wouldn't make fun of him, he knew when Simmons was panicking. He just had to stop being melodramatic and give Grif a chance to talk. 

“You okay there, Simmons?” he said, taking a hand off the wheel to pat his friend’s back. 

“I want to die.” 

“Well don’t do that, we’re nearly there.” 

“Fuck you, dude.” He paused, biting his lip, “Was it as bad as I remember?” 

“The kiss? Not really, you tasted like fruit punch.” 

Simmons could feel his face turning red. 

“You remember everything, holy shit.” 

“Well yeah, getting kissed by your gorgeous ass roommate tends to wake a guy up.” 

“Gorgeous?!” Simmons choked. 

“Well, yeah. I mean you’re a fucking nerd, but you’re still hot.” 

“I think I need a moment.” 

“Well, you have about thirty seconds, we’re there, dude.” 

  


Grif pulled off the highway, curving towards an unlit, grassy area lined with a chain link fence. He watched Simmons looked around furtively, trying to figure out where they were without having to ask. Eventually his eyes settled on what appeared to be a drive through ticket booth. Behind it there was a strange looking building. The base looked relatively normal, like a little corner store, but on top of it there was a huge metal framing. Grif pulled up, turning to face a bored teenager. 

“Two tickets for Star Wars, please.” 

“To your right. Please enjoy the movie, and don’t forget to tune your radio to channel 106.9.” 

“Wait.” Simmons blurted, turning to face Grif, “Is this is the rebuilt drive-in theater?” 

“Yeup.” He chirps, clearly proud of himself. 

“And they’re playing Star Wars? Of all things? How could you possibly have known about this? Why is it even playing?” 

“I think it’s some sort of special event to celebrate the reopening. They’re playing one of the original three all month, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.” 

“No fucking way.” 

“Yeah way.” 

“Grif, you are amazing, I can’t believe this.” 

“Well thank you, I try sometimes.” 

“Okay, okay,” Simmons said, glancing around excitedly, “We have to find a comfortable way to watch this.” 

Grif smirked, putting the car in park. 

“Why don’t you check the bed of the truck?” 

Grif watched the curiosity light Simmons’ face up. He wrestled his way out of the seat and around to the back of the truck. Grif hopped out just in time to see Simmons use a tire for leverage, and peer down over the truck bed. Grif couldn’t help but snort at the priceless expression Simmons made when when he saw an actual bed. Technically, it was an air mattress that had been fastened down with bungee cords, but a bed was a bed. 

“Why- ... How did you think of this? When did you put this here?” 

“Well,” Grif grinned, tossing some pillows and a blanket into the mix of oddly soft things, “Kai and I were going to come check it out last weekend, but she got called into work at the rink last minute.” 

“Isn’t that convenient for us?” Simmons replied, climbing into the mess of cozy bedding. 

“What’s convenient was leaving the portable radio so we don’t have to listen through the back window of the truck.” He said, joining Simmons and popping open a bag of snacks, facing the opening towards him. “Twizzler?” 

Simmons cracked a smile, shifting closer to steal some of Grif's warmth and candy. 

“God, you’re ridiculous.” He said biting into the licorice. 

“Me?” He asked, a toothy grin showing itself, “If you’re not careful I’m gonna snatch that thing right out of your mouth.” 

“Oh yeah? Just try me.” Simmons taunted, wiggling the licorice between his teeth. 

Grif bit at the end, cocking an eyebrow as if he was asking Simmons what did you expect? Exactly that, of course, but he didn’t expect what came after. 

The next thing Simmons knew they were both drifting closer and closer, until their lips finally met in the middle. Grif had kissed him and he pressed back. Hard. And everything was… Awkward. Simmons was half trying to finish the Twizzler in his mouth, half trying to kiss Grif, but at the same time it felt right. Like the entire night had been leading up to this. 

He felt Grif bring his callused hands up to cup his jaw, the coarse skin managing to be gentle and soft. He had been unsure what they were to each other before, but being pressed this close (and this sober)… It made it hard to misinterpret. And Simmons liked that. He felt confident, taking in the sensation. 

They broke away for a moment to breathe, resting their foreheads together. Simmons inhaled sharply, summoning as much courage as he could. He shifted, centering himself on Grif's lap. Settling in with his hands on Grif's shoulders. 

“Bold move.” Grif teased. 

“Oh shut up.” Simmons responded, kissing him again. 

Grif moved his hands so that they were resting on Simmons’ hips, holding him close and grounding him. He could have stayed like that forever. Kissing Grif in the back of a truck at a drive-in, like they were part of some cliched movie from the 60s. 

When they finally parted, both of their dazed eyes meet in between them. In the back of his head Simmons could hear the movie starting, but as much as he loved Star Wars, right now? Fuck that entirely. 

It was Grif who spoke first. 

“… Wow.” 

Well, at least he TRIED to speak first. 

“Yeah?” 

Good to see that Simmons’ commentary was equally as eloquent. 

“I guess you do like me.” 

Simmons smiled softly, picking at Grif’s shirt to avoid eye contact until he found the right words. 

“I…. Of course I like you.” He fiddled with the ends of his hair to try and stop the fumbling of his words. “And not just when I’m drunk… I like you all the time. Even when we’re both ridiculously hungover. You’re… Kind of the most important person in my life, Grif. You actually care about me, not some false ideal you’ve created for me.” 

“I… Jesus Simmons,” Grif smiled so wide that his eyes closed, hidden behind his cheeks, “That’s so fucking sappy.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I’m trying to be sincere here.” he responded, taking Grif’s face in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.” 

“Hey,” Grif said between kisses, “Do you wanna be that gross couple that cuddles at movies?” 

Simmons laughed, kissing Grif again, “That sounds terrible. I'm in.” He slowly climbed his way off of Grif’s lap, ensuring that he still remained close. “I mean, you bought my ticket I should at least pretend to watch the movie.” 

“You can always pay me back.” 

“When have you ever accepted money from me?” 

“Never, but I'm thinking about taking kisses as currency now that it's an option. You can pay me back like that.” 

“I dunno, money sounds easier.” 

Grif rolled his eyes, shifting to lay down on the pillows. He paused only for a second before he pats his chest, inviting Simmons to rest on top of him. He nestled down beside Grif, resting on his shoulder. As soon as they had settled, Grif took it upon himself to begin lazily carding through Simmons’ red hair, coercing out a content hum. 

  
  
  


Halfway through the movie Grif realized Simmons was yawning every third word that Luke said. His eyes were half lidded, and every couple of seconds they would fall shut only to shoot back open a second later. 

“You know you’re allowed to fall asleep.” Grif whipered. 

“No,” Simmons whined, even though his eyes were closed, “This is… The best part.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah…” 

And just like that, Simmons finally drifted off. Grif took it all in, the smell of his best friend lying so close to him, the way their breathing synced up, even the crooked way Simmons’ glasses hung off his nose. He had never been more bitter at a movie for ending. He would have to get Simmons into the car somehow, but he didn’t dare move until the very end of the credits. 

“Hey handsome, it's time to head home. You okay?” 

Simmons just held on tighter. And Grif thought he might just cry at the sound Simmons made when he sat up. 

“You just stay asleep, Rich, I’ll carry you.” 

“No,” Simmons murmured, “I’m awake. I… got this.” 

He stumbled out of the bed, almost falling over when his feet hit the ground. Grif couldn’t help but laugh, he looked drunk, but sure enough Simmons made his way to the passenger seat. Grif wrapped up their mess of food and pillows in the blanket, shoving it into the back, before climbing up into the driver's seat. Simmons looked like he was already dead to the world. His mouth hung open and his hair was a ruffled mess in his face. Grif sighed at the sight, lovingly brushing it off to the side. 

“Goodnight Simmons.” 


End file.
